Everyone's been reborn, so who would bother finding a wife on their own?

Chapter 63 Dreams of a Past Life

When Song Huan opened her eyes, the ceiling was white.

It wasn't the kind of white that's turned yellow from being exposed to the sun; it was a deathly white, like the white of a fluorescent light tube.

The lights weren't on, but light leaked in through the gaps in the curtains, shining on the ceiling and hurting my eyes.

He stared at the spot of light for a few seconds, his mind still a jumble.

The rented room is ten square meters, with a bed, a table, and a wardrobe.

This is his simple home.

Because his parents did not support his relationship with Lin Yue, they cut off the family's financial support.

Everything depended on Song Huan herself, relying on her own efforts.

There were three stacks of takeout boxes on the table. The top box was unfinished, with chopsticks stuck upright in the rice.

The wardrobe door was crooked and couldn't close properly. Inside, several shirts hung, all wrinkled, with two buttons missing from the collar.

The curtains were gray, blackout fabric, and drawn tightly shut, leaving only a slit.

He lay on that bed, the blanket was thin, the duvet cover was washed white, and the edges were frayed.

The pillow smelled of laundry detergent—cheap and pungent.

He had smelled this scent before, in his past life, in that rented room, in that home before it was smashed.

Just as he was in a daze, the door suddenly opened.

Lin Yue stood at the door, holding a pink cake box tied with a ribbon.

She was wearing that white dress, her hair was down, and she had a smile on her face.

Happy birthday, honey!

She held the cake up and waved it in front of him.

He sat up and watched her place the cake on the table, push the takeout box aside, and make room for it.

She was very serious when she untied the ribbon. Her fingers were long and slender, and her nails were cut very short. The ribbon was tied in a knot, and she spent a long time untying it with her head down.

"Why aren't you helping me?" She looked up at him, pouting.

He smiled, reached out to untie it, and the ribbon came loose, the pink silk ribbon slipped down and landed on the table.

She opened the box; the cake was strawberry flavored, topped with thinly sliced ​​strawberries arranged in a flower shape.

She placed twenty-three candles, representing his twenty-three years old, and they were placed crookedly.

Then I looked for a lighter, but after searching for a long time I couldn't find one. Finally I found one in a drawer and it took me several tries to light it.

The flame flickered and then lit up.

Her face shone brightly in the candlelight, and her eyes curved into crescents.

"Make a wish," she said expectantly.

He closed his eyes, but his mind was blank; he wasn't thinking about anything.

Open your eyes and blow out the candle.

She asked him what he wished for, and he said he wouldn't tell her.

She snorted, took a knife and cut the cake, cutting the biggest piece and placing it in front of him.

The strawberries were sour, the cake was sweet, and the cream melted on the tongue, leaving a lingering, rich sensation.

He took a bite, then another.

She sat opposite him, resting her chin on her hand as she watched him eat, a slight smile playing on her lips.

"Is it tasty?"

"tasty."

"You're lying, you didn't even laugh."

Seeing that he finally smiled, she smiled too.

"My silly husband is really something."

……

The screen suddenly shattered, and Song Huan froze, frantically searching for it.

But all this beauty is like a mirror being hit by a hammer; cracks ripple outwards from the center, scattering fragments everywhere.

When he looked around again, the rented room was still the same rented room, but all his belongings were on the floor.

The table was overturned, the takeout box was lying face down on the ground, and leftover food was spilled all over the floor.

The chair fell over, upside down.

The cake box was crushed, the pink ribbon was torn off, and it was thrown in a corner.

Strawberry cake was smeared on the floor, cream was trampled everywhere, and shoe prints stretched from the doorway all the way to the bedside.

Lin Yue stood in the middle of the room.

Her hair was disheveled, her makeup was smudged, and her eyeliner had smudged into two dark streaks.

She was wearing that white dress, the hem stained with cream and ash.

Her eyes were red, not from crying, but from burning, as if they were on fire.

"Do you know what day it is today?" she shouted hysterically.

He stood at the door, still wearing his designated driver vest, the reflective strips gleaming coldly white under the fluorescent lights.

He was still clutching the electric scooter key in his hand; the keychain was a small brown bear with its fur worn away.

He was tired, so tired that he didn't want to talk.

I worked overtime until 9 p.m., and after leaving the company, I rode my electric bike for half an hour to the street where restaurants are concentrated, and squatted by the roadside waiting for orders.

When I came back, the electric scooter ran out of power, so I had to push it for an hour.

"It's my birthday," he said, his voice flat.

"Do you know you're coming home this late? How many times have I called you? You didn't answer a single one!" Her voice grew louder and louder, like a string stretched to its limit, ready to snap at any moment.

"I'm driving." He tossed his car keys onto the bed; they bounced and fell to the floor, but he didn't pick them up.

"Drive, drive, drive! All you care about is driving! Do you even care about me?" She kicked a cake box on the ground, sending it flying and hitting the wall.

He looked at her, at the cake on the floor, at the overturned table, at the broken plates.

He also had a fire burning inside him for no reason, burning silently all day long, from the company to the designated driver, and from the designated driver to home.

It's burning up to my throat now.

"Why do I drive? To earn money! And why do I earn money? To pay the rent! To buy you things! To give your mother an explanation..."

As he was speaking, he suddenly stopped.

Because she looked at him, tears fell down her face.

"For me? Did you even ask me? What I want is to never see anyone all day? What I want is to wait alone for five hours on my birthday? What I want is..."

She pointed to the broken cake on the floor. "Is this what I wanted?"

"So what do you want?"

His voice suddenly rose, "Want money? Want to drive a nice car? Want to live in a big house? Go find some! Go find those so-called Boss Wang, Boss Li, Boss Zhang!"

He got more and more excited as he spoke, "Didn't you used to work in nightclubs? You knew a lot of rich people, right? Yes, they're rich! They don't have to work overtime! They'll buy you ten cakes for your birthday!"

"Go find them quickly, I beg you, go now! Someone like me doesn't deserve you, you know? I'm someone who can barely live, you know that!"

As he spoke, he almost roared, slamming his helmet onto the ground.

She froze, tears welling up in her eyes, but then stopped flowing.

She looked at him as if he were a stranger.

"What did you say?" Her voice was very soft.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but his throat felt like it was blocked by something.

Sometimes that's how it is; the closer someone is to you, the more they understand you, the more likely they are to stab you with the sharpest knife.

"What did you say?" she asked again, her voice trembling.

He turned his head away from her, saying, "It's nothing."

She stood there for a long time.

Then she laughed, a laugh that was uglier than crying.

"Song Huan, let's break up."

His fingers twitched, clenched, loosened, and clenched again.

"Fine, let's break up then."

Do you think I really want to be with you?

"I've had enough of your parents' materialistic ways, all they ever talk about is money, money, money!"

"I never want to see your parents' grumpy faces again!"

"Hold!"

He kicked the TV, which flipped off the cabinet, shattering the screen into a spiderweb pattern. A flash of blue light appeared, and then the screen went out.

He slammed the door and went out; the door hit the wall, bounced back, and hit the wall again.

The motion-activated lights in the corridor turned on, casting a stark white light on his face.

He stood at the door and heard a muffled crying sound coming from inside, as if separated by a layer of water through the door.

They did break up later.

I heard from a friend that she went back to her hometown in Jingnan, and her mother introduced her to a businessman in his forties who had been divorced once and owned three houses in the city.

The bride price was 888,000 yuan, a full 888,000 yuan!

My friend mentioned this number with a hint of envy in his voice.

He listened without saying a word.

At that time, he was working as a designated driver, and he only earned fifty yuan for every forty kilometers he drove.

The scene shifts to a rural area.

A red shed was erected in the courtyard, under which were more than twenty round tables covered with red tablecloths, and on the tables were melon seeds, peanuts and candy.

Firecracker debris covered the ground, red like blood.

A row of cars was parked at the entrance, with a black Maybach leading the way. Red flowers were tied to the hood of the car, and ribbons trailed from the hood all the way to the ground.

He stood outside the courtyard, peering through the crowd.

Lin Yue was sitting in a room on the second floor.

In the dressing mirror, she was wearing a red wedding dress, gold jewelry on her head, and a heavy string of gold pigs around her neck, which made her lower her head.

She was wearing makeup, with thick foundation, two patches of blush, and bright red lips.

But it couldn't hide the bluish-gray under his eyes, the deep lines at the corners of his mouth, or the indescribable ashen look on his face.

The room was empty; the bridesmaids were downstairs blocking the door, demanding red envelopes.

She sat alone on the bed, head down, looking at her hands.

Her hands were resting on her knees, her nails were cut very short and bare, without any nail polish.

She sat for a while, then stood up and walked to the cabinet.

The cabinet is made of mahogany, carved with flowers, and the lacquer is so shiny that you can see your reflection in it.

She opened the drawer and took out a pair of new stainless steel scissors, the blades gleaming white under the light.

She gripped the scissors in her right hand, raised them, and pointed the blade at her neck.

Red wedding dress, red quilt, red paper-cut window decorations, red eyes...

She looked out the window, where a double happiness character was pasted on it, cut from red paper, with two happy characters standing side by side.

It was incredibly bright and scarlet!

She looked for a few seconds, then closed her eyes with trembling hands and suddenly stabbed the scissors into her own neck.

Blood gushed out, staining the entire wedding red.